Tea without milk
by GiantInflatableWalrus
Summary: The first time I kissed you, you weren't there." Sirius and Remus, Vague slash. some strong language.


**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**Some strong language.**

**Remus POV**

The first time I kissed you, you weren't there. You weren't sat next to me halfway up the staircase on the bare boards; I never got around to carpeting them did I? You weren't listening to me as I ranted and rambled, blurting out Merlin only knows how many things I really shouldn't have. You didn't even have the grace to turn up when I pressed my lips to yours; you kissed back, and I thought I might pass out I was so relieved, so shocked, pleased, elated ... and then I realised you weren't there.

Mere weeks after we left Hogwarts, we moved into this wreck of a house; the plumbing didn't work, half the windows were smashed or missing all together, the paint was peeling and there was the ever present scent of damp. But after some TLC and a few sessions of wand waving the place was, while not liable to win any awards, quite homely. You'd been at the ministry three months when Dumbledore sent you the owl. We'd all been expecting it, and you'd told us you weren't bothered in the slightest. But the news that Regulus had joined the Death Eaters hit you harder than any of us expected, harder than even you expected it to. You hadn't fully appreciated what him joining Voldemort would mean, as part of The Order if the opportunity should arise to kill him, you would have to take it. You are capable of many things Sirius Black, but I don't think killing a member of your own family is among them.

That night I found you sat on the threadbare carpet of the sitting room; Green carpet, you hated it and begged me to change it, you said it made you feel like a Slytherin. You were staring blankly at the fire, a bottle of Firewhiskey in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. I sat next to you on the floor, instantly wishing I hadn't; I was still recovering from a Full moon and the movement did little to help my healing wounds. You silently thrust the paper under my nose, taking a deep gulp of the whiskey wincing slightly; you weren't used to it, not then. I read the parchment through three times; how did you want me to respond? I tried to talk to you, reassure you that it would be alright, Dumbledore wouldn't put you in a position where you were likely to have to face him. You didn't answer, so I took the bottle from you, taking a sip before you retrieved it. We stayed like that for hours, sharing the bottle. Helpful and wise words had failed me fairly early on, I decided maybe all you needed was a friend.

Early afternoon the next day I found you leaning against the drystone wall in our back garden, blowing rings of smoke from your cigarette into the freezing air. I stood next to you, picking at the small weeds growing in between the rocks of the wall. I asked you how you were, tried to get you to talk. You looked me in the eye for the first time that day and spoke while putting your cigarette out on the wall, your voice hoarse and scratchy "I preferred you pissed. You nagged less", then stuffed your hands into your pockets and headed back into the house. I was just glad you spoke.

If I'd have known that that moment in the back garden leaning against the wall, breathing in your second hand smoke, if only because a part of me felt I was really breathing in a part of you, was the best it was going to be for months, perhaps I would have left. Would you have noticed? You were drinking more often as weeks went by; because your work was so difficult, to relax, just for fun – any excuse, but never because of Regulus. Never because you felt guilty you hadn't done enough to save him, guilty you hadn't stood up to your parents until it was too late. But the real problems didn't start until you learned that Regulus had been killed, that's when you finally earned the title of alcoholic. Before you drank to put it out of your mind, now you drank to get you through the day, to survive. But it's killing you.

We don't talk any more. You don't eat anymore, or go to work. But you do drink, oh yes. Drinking and shouting you are very good at. For someone who didn't care about his brother you're certainly making a fuss about his death, and making my life a living hell in the process. I have to walk on egg shells in my own house; Is it safe to speak to him today? How much has he had? Is he going to lose his temper? Is today finally going to be the day he snaps and hits me?. Days are a blur to you, you can't remember what happened yesterday and and half the time you don't even know what's going on right at the moment. Sometimes I come so close to just leaving, packing and going. But I never do, I love you too much. Even though I do hate you.

You're sat opposite me, eyes only half open; probably wondering why I've been staring at you for the last few moments, as though I'm the one that's not quite right. You've missed the last 2 full moons, I don't mind really, but it's not like you .. not like you at all. Should I tell you? No. I pour you some tea instead, because tea fixes everything. You stare at the cup before lifting it to your lips; so dry and cracked, but still soft. You take a sip and grimace before setting it back on it's saucer. "Tastes funny" you mutter, pushing it away.  
"That's because there's no brandy in it" I point out scathingly before taking a sip of my own tea, two sugars no milk, you can't understand Tea without milk, you think I'm mad. It's like chips without salt, you said. Day without sunlight.

Me without you. Maybe that's why I stopped adding milk ...

You're on your feet now, moving towards your cupboard. I grip the handle of my cup harder, bracing for impact. You open the cupboard door, and stare at it's contents. Or lack thereof. You close the door, blink and open it again. Well, will you look at that? Still empty. "Where is it Moons?" You ask, folding your arms and looking at me. I don't look back, I stare at the woodgrain of the table top; it'll need a scrub today, coffee stains all over it. Why do we not use coasters?  
"I chucked it out" I say simply, taking a sip of tea. Your eyes widen and arms fall to your side  
"What?" you sound as though you've lost your only child, not half a bottle of whiskey that we both know you'll replace quickly.  
"Chucked it out. Well, technically I poured it down the sink, but it all amounts to the same thing" I'm standing, carrying my empty cup and your still full one to the sink, and you're watching me.  
"Why?" you ask, I'm trying not to laugh, can you tell? You sit back down at the table.  
"Why?" I repeat "Why? Have you seen yourself recently? You don't eat, you don't talk, you don't go to work; It's killing you Sirius!" my voice is shaking and I'm leaning hard against the tabletop, my heart beating double time. And you're just staring at me ... did you hear me at all?

"I know you're upset about Regulus, but ..." I get no further, You're on your feet again, snarling at me;

"This is _not _about Regulus! I don't care about him, or the fact he's dead; In fact I wish I'd done it myself". Silence. You sit back down and run a hand through your hair, when did you last wash it?.

"This has always been about Regulus, and the fact you feel some sort of misplaced guilt for his death" my voice is stronger and steadier, you need to hear this; but you don't want to do you?  
"Why do you care anyway Remus?" your voice is tired and your eyes closed. How many reasons do you want? Because we've been friends for Merlin known how many years, because James we kill me if you end up doing something stupid, because it's me who has to put up with you day in day out, clear up after you, fix what you break, because I fucking love you?  
"Because you're a friend and I can't let you do this, you've blown everything way out of proportion And because I .."... And now your eyes aren't closed, you're looking me straight in the eye, and for once I can't read them... "Because I love you" I finish quietly. And you're laughing.

"I see. You love me? Yes ... Because now.. now that I'm a fully fledged alcoholic, a bloody nut-case, a bit of a social outcast.. I'm just as fucked up as you aren't I Lupin? Prefect match there" you laugh, winking at me. Something's broken. I heard the crash, the splintering and snapping. It must be my heart. You're standing now, breathing heavily. I look to my left, the wall is soaked. You've thrown the teapot, missed me by no more than thee inches and hit the wall, tea staining the floral wallpaper. Something else has broken along with that teapot and my heart. I think it was probably my patience. I leave the kitchen, storming past the sitting room door and up the stairs, footsteps on bare boards echoing, past the midway point where you and I didn't kiss, and into my bedroom. A single wand flick is enough for my stuff to pack itself, magic is a fantastic aid in making rash decisions.

You're still sat in the kitchen, you look up when you see me come in and I avoid your eyes. I know what will happen if I look at you, I'll end up staying.  
"Please, moons .. I'm sorry, I .." Right now Sirius, I don't want to hear it, can't you tell?  
"I'm going, you're quite right; Two fucked up social outcasts really is too much for one building. I'm sure James will help if you need anything, and don't forget to put the bins out on a Tuesday morning. Goodbye Sirius" I'm gone and out the front door before you have time to respond. Halfway up the road I realize I have no idea where I'm going, and even if I did know where I was going I would find it very difficult to get there, I can't see past the unshed tears. Nearly five years I've been so hopelessly in love with you, and I couldn't even help you when you needed it. I'll have to go to my parents, James won't take me in when he knows I've left you to your own devices.

Your hand wraps around my wrist and tugs lightly, and I hear you say the three most important words you'll ever say, the words I've been wanting to hear you say for months. Not 'Don't go Moony', not 'I'm sorry Moony' .. Not even 'I love you'. You say the only three words that would make me turn around and go back with you, make me change my mind.

"Please, help me".

**Ooh. Not sure about this one, I like sections of it, and other bits I just feel very .. bleh, about. I wanted to have a stab at a less 'Happy go Lucky' Sirius. I've always felt that the issue of Sirius' family is a complex one; while he dislikes them, they're still his family, and could he feel some sort of loss for his brother? And if he can't say explicitly 'I miss him and I'm worried', how might he show it? Perhaps through this sort of self destruction.  
Feedback is greatly appreciated, what needs improvement? What worked? Etc etc. Thanks.  
**


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